Bathing Miss Babcock
by seirina
Summary: Niles takes care of CC after her unfortunate encounter with Chester's leash. Post-ep for 6x09, Oh Say, Can You Ski.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: With apologies and thanks to Lisacheerio85, whose "Educating Susanna" inspired the scenario, and KathyB, whose chapter with the bathtub scene in "The Visit" made me want to write one, too.

**Chapter 1**

Steam hung heavy in the air of the small private bathroom in the chalet where most of the Sheffield extended family was enjoying a holiday in the mountains. Niles knew about the enjoyment because he had seen them all heading out to ski, or back in for the hot cocoa he kept warming on the stove. And he knew about the steam because it billowed out to greet him when he finally managed to finagle the lock open.

Closing the door behind him, he demanded, "Babcock, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Niles's question cut sharply through her doze and caused her to wrench her body as she jolted awake.

Unable to hold in the whimper of pain at the unexpected movement, CC hissed, "Damn it, Niles, why are you in here?" With her good arm, she tried to gather enough bubbles to preserve her dignity, but gave it up as a lost cause. She draped a washcloth over her breasts and decided Niles would just have to cope.

"I've been knocking on your door for," he paused, his eyes drawn against his will to what the bubbles and washcloth didn't cover. Forcing himself to look her in the eye, he continued, "ten minutes, and finally had to jimmy the lock. I've already asked you not to use the latch. What are you playing at?" He sounded querulous, and her senses were still dulled enough not to discern the real distress that hid beneath his frustration.

Craving nothing so much as the languor a hot bath could induce, CC had made up her mind half an hour ago that doctor's orders be damned, she was going to soak in the tub if it drenched the plaster on her arm. She had been more careful than her original plan might've suggested, though, and in fact her cast was not much worse for the wear. The steam from the water had only dampened it slightly, and its awkward angle made it impossible to submerge, anyway.

"Every muscle I have aches, and I haven't had a shower in three days," she said stubbornly.

"That explains the stench, then," he said, relenting a bit.

CC scowled at him. "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me take off this neck brace? I want to wash my hair."

"You're kidding, right? The doctor said you mustn't remove the brace until we go back for your follow-up appointment." He crossed his arms and took a step back.

"Frankly, I don't give a damn what that quack said. Now get over here." Using her good hand, she gestured to a spot on the tile floor beside tub.

He moved a couple of steps closer to her. "I will not risk delaying your recovery, Miss Babcock. God only knows how much longer I'll have to care for you if we take off that brace." He shuddered for effect.

A change in tactics seemed to be in order. If commanding didn't work, perhaps wheedling would. "Please, Niles. Have I ever asked you nicely for anything in my life?" She widened her eyes.

He glanced at her expression, taken aback by the difference in her demeanor. A Babcock who asked rather than demanded? Who said _please_? He took a step closer to the bathtub. "What makes you think I'd be willing to help you wash your hair?" A note of curiosity clung to the rhetorical question.

"Two hundred fifty bucks?" She grinned up at him.

He smirked back at her. Trust the old battleaxe to remind him of one of the most pleasant evenings they'd ever spent together. "Well in that case, how could I refuse?" He bowed jauntily, then stepped up right beside the tub.

She released a sigh of relief.

"Can you turn around a bit? The cast is blocking my access to the brace," he said, considering the problem critically.

"Like…?" she indicated with her uninjured hand.

He cocked his head to the side. "No, more this way," he motioned, gesturing for her to lean her back against the edge of the tub where he stood.

She groaned as she tried to shift her weight, her casted arm a constant obstacle, and the pain in her chest growing with each attempt. "Damn it, I can't—"

"Shh, be still. Let me help you." Niles paused to pull the sweater over his head, and CC couldn't keep from gulping when the button-up he was wearing underneath came untucked and rode up a bit, exposing a couple of inches of skin above the waistband of his trousers. How was he so tan there, this far from summer? She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake to try to remove the image, and gasped from the agony induced by the slight movement.

"Now what happened?" He asked, as he unbuttoned first his right cuff, then his left.

"I… nothing. Could you hurry it up, Beulah?" She tried to keep her eyes off his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves.

"I'm ready, oh patient one. I'm going to just…" He trailed off as he showed her what he planned to do.

"Fine, do it already," she bit out.

Niles knelt on the tile and slid one arm behind her and under the water, grasping her hip with slippery fingers, and did the same with his other hand. Then he lifted her so that she could position herself with her back to him. When her washcloth slipped down into the water, his eyes slipped down to her breasts, and it took the entirety of his self-control to prevent his hands from following his gaze.

"Fix it," she said lazily, and though she couldn't see him, she had heard the hitch in his breath. Ever since the embarrassing episode with Nanny Fine's cookies a couple weeks prior, nearly every moment they spent alone had been charged with… something. CC hadn't figured out what, exactly, just yet, but she did know that she didn't mind if he was looking.

He reached for the cloth, his forearm grazing her breast in the process. They both shivered, and then CC flinched as pain shot through her collarbone.

"Sorry," he breathed into her ear as he spread the dripping fabric back over her chest, just covering both her rosy areolas. He let his hand linger on her skin a few moments longer than he could possibly justify.

She brought her right hand up to hold the cloth in place and murmured knowingly, "No, you're not," her voice deeper even than usual.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I see you neglected to use the plastic the doctor sent home with you."

"I couldn't reach the whole cast, and I knew you would try to prevent me from taking a bath at all if I asked you to help," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes. "And miss a chance to scrub your hairy back for you? Never."

"Just get the plastic," she ordered, glad he couldn't see her smile.

"Yes, yes, I'm going," he said, and suppressed a groan when he stood, then tossed her thick towel on the floor to save his knees when he returned. Successfully wrangling the plastic around the cast, he said, "Okay, let's get this brace off now."

Her hair was already pinned up—had been, as far as he knew, since her accident, because he hadn't helped her do anything else with it. He felt a twinge of remorse for making her sleep on the pins for so long.

Removing the brace was a painless procedure, and he tossed it towards the door to keep it from getting splashed.

Once it was gone, CC breathed a sigh of relief. "My god, what an improvement already."

"Shall I…" he began, and took one of the pins from her hair.

"Please," she said, and he carefully removed the others, till her hair was a tangled mess. Then he said, "Okay, what first?"

She waved her hand flippantly. "You're the servant; you figure it out."

He made a face behind her back. "I suppose we might as well begin with your hair," he said, then took the bottle of shampoo from CC's toiletry bag.

"You have to wet it first," she said snidely.

"I do have some idea how to wash hair," he responded dryly, and unhooked the detachable showerhead. Intentionally adjusting the temperature to the lower end of the scale, he couldn't resist shooting a stream of cool water at her chest just to see the effect of it.

She shrieked and backhanded him, hard, when the chilly water hit her skin. Then she released a pained moan and hunched over, hiding her bare chest. Around clenched teeth, she managed to growl, "Damn you."

Repentant, Niles said, "Oh, Miss Babcock, I am sorry. Here, let me make it warmer." This time he tested the water on his own arm before soaking her hair. He even held his hand over her forehead to keep most of the water from streaming down into her face.

"Sometimes I really hate you, do you know that?" She was exasperated, if not surprised. But damn it, smacking him had hurt her a lot more than it had him. Well. She could make him pay for that.

"The feeling is entirely mutual, I…" he trailed off. "I assure you. Ah, would you like me to reposition the washcloth?" It was currently floating in the water.

"That won't be necessary," she said, and if she could have shot him a look of pure wickedness, she would have. "Nothing you haven't seen before, right?"

His only audible response was a curse as he fumbled with the showerhead, spraying himself in the process. Her throaty laughter at his trouble did nothing to improve his mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Niles…" she drew the single syllable out into at least two, in what was nearly a purr.

"Yes?" He paused as he unbuttoned his dripping shirt.

"What is taking you so long? Aren't you going to finish my hair?"

"Hold your horses, Babcock," he responded gruffly.

She heard his shirt flop wetly onto the tiles near the tub and raised an eyebrow. "Get a move on; I don't have all day."

He leaned close to her ear. "I'll do it when I'm good and ready."

"Well damn, I'm never getting out of this bathtub," she sighed theatrically.

"Ha ha," he said, scrunching his face into a pout and seizing the showerhead once more.

"Shampoo's next," she volunteered helpfully, amusement in her voice.

"Oh, for—" he twisted the knob and dropped the showerhead, splashing her in the process. He watched the droplets glide down her pale skin, then reached for the bottle of shampoo that cost, he was sure, more than all the personal care products he used in a year's time. He squirted a dollop into his palm and rubbed his hands together before beginning to massage the cleanser into her scalp.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes at how good his hands felt.

Too soon, he announced, "All clean," and turned the spray back on. He was careful to select a comfortable temperature, and then rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. He tried not to watch the bubbles as they made their way down her body.

"Conditioner?" She demanded, when he moved to grab the body wash. It might have been more forceful if she hadn't been on track to feeling as relaxed as one could with a sore chest and an awful cast immobilizing an arm.

"Bossy," he said, and got the conditioner instead. As he worked the cream through the knots in her hair, he could swear he heard a tiny moan escape from Babcock's lips. For reasons of maintaining his own sanity, he told himself it must be from the pain. And surely she was only tormenting him with her nakedness. To consider any other motivation was to invite crushing disappointment if he were wrong.

"Now my back," she instructed.

"Don't you want me to rinse your hair first?"

"No, that's last. Back now." She spoke in monosyllables as the medication she had swallowed before her bath finally began to allow her to ignore the aches in her body. She refused to consider the role Niles's ministrations might be playing in the lassitude that was overtaking her.

"Have you been drinking?" He inquired, thinking surely she had better sense than to mix alcohol with opiates.

"No," she said rudely. "I did take a couple pills, though." She shifted in the water, stretching her back because she could.

"A _couple_? You're only supposed to take half of one!" If he hadn't personally seen her consume a good amount of a bottle of Glenfiddich and conduct business as usual, he'd be stunned she was still conscious.

"Half wasn't cutting it, drama queen. Now do my back." As always, arguing with him made her anything but sleepy.

"Give me your washcloth, then." He wasn't too worried—she was as irritable as ever.

"_You_ get it," she said, her voice husky.

He looked for the cloth, which had sunk to the bottom of the tub in the triangle of CC's folded legs. Bubbles partially obscured his view. "Miss Babcock," he said formally, "are you quite sure that's a good idea?"

"Mmm hmm," she hummed, and it sounded nearly like a moan.

Clenching his teeth, he reached down, his bare chest making contact with her back. She flexed into him, sucking in a breath at the feel of his chest hair against her skin. He let his hand graze the side of her breast, then her stomach, as he slowly made his way toward the cloth. Grasping it, he dragged the material from the bottom of the tub up across her body. Her nipples tightened, and she breathed his name.

"I don't think," he began, "that this is very wise." He clutched the washcloth and drew away slightly.

She mourned the loss of his warmth against her. "Since when," she murmured, "have we ever been wise?"

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and reached for the body wash. "Lean forward a bit; I'll do your back."

She obliged, and he ran the cloth deftly over every inch of her shoulders. She held her uninjured arm out for him, and he jerked back as he caught himself leaning to trail his lips over her soft skin. He washed it thoroughly instead, then moved the cloth down her spine to her lower back. Dropping the fabric, he ran his hands over her skin, pressing against her muscles, draining every bit of tension from them.

"My god, do they teach that in butler school?" She asked as he gripped her around the waist and pushed his thumbs against her spine. Her head sagged forward, and it didn't even hurt.

"Or as I like to call it, the University of Oxford," he said sourly, trying to hide his labored breathing.

CC smiled lazily at the reference to Oxford. If she had to be involved with a butler, at least he was a well educated one. Wait, _involved __with_? That had escalated quickly, and she cursed the drugs in her system that would make her even think such a thing. She was supposed to be making him suffer, not... "Now my legs," she ordered, partly to distract herself from such vexing thoughts.

"How am I supposed to reach your legs?" He complained, even as his pulse quickened at the thought of running his hands over the lengths of them.

"I know you're a very old man, but if you could just stretch those aged muscles a bit…"

He heard the grin in her voice, and his own lips stretched in response. "I see you missed your daily waxing," he grunted as he used the washcloth to soap her legs.

She shifted so he could reach behind her knees. "My razor is on the counter by the sink," she directed.

His mouth dropped open in faux shock. "You'd trust me with a razor blade?"

"I have… ways of exacting revenge," she threatened, and stretched one long leg out of the water. "I'll raise your fee to five hundred if you manage not to cut me."

"You don't have to pay me," he mimicked, and used the washcloth as a puppet.

"Shave gel's beside the razor," she said, doing her level best to ignore the memory _that_ evoked. She'd been truly desperate that night.

As he leaned across her to smooth the gel onto the leg she'd extended, he said "This isn't going to work. I can't reach far enough, and god knows I need all the purchase I can get to fell this forest." Niles reached into the water to rinse his hands, then dried them on her towel.

"Oh, come on," CC began, but stopped when she heard him unzipping his trousers. "What are you—"

Wearing only his boxers, Niles stepped into the tub and then sat on the edge of it, wielding the razor in his left hand. "Said I couldn't reach," he shrugged, and began dragging the razor over her calf.

CC bit her lip and didn't respond, but she gazed in open admiration as the muscles in his back contracted with each stroke.

"Uh uh," she grunted when he stopped a few inches past her knee. "You have to do the whole leg."

"The rest of your leg is underwater," he protested, but seeing that she was implacable, he sighed and released the plug to allow some of the water to drain. When it was low enough, he replaced the stopper.

"Gel," she admonished when he lowered the razor to her skin.

"Very good, Miss Babcock," he said. Niles spread the gel onto her upper thigh, keeping his eyes strictly on the job at hand. His thoughts, well, were a different story, but as far as he knew, mind-reading was not one of Babcock's many talents. His breathing was ragged by the time her entire leg was hair-free, and if his hand had slipped a time or two in the process, she hadn't registered any protests.

When he'd finished her left leg, she wordlessly stretched out her right and watched him as he shaved it. She had to pull her hand back when she found herself reaching to touch his thigh as he twisted his body to get close enough to finish her ankle.

"Anything else you'd like me to use the razor on?" He offered, with a failed attempt at an innocent expression. He absent-mindedly trailed his fingers up the inside of her silky leg, jolting into awareness as he passed her upper thigh.

CC curled her lips into a smirk and swatted his hand away. As he turned to step out of the tub, he caught the look on her face and it sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine.

"We'll save that for another time," she said sarcastically, and he couldn't help but wish she meant it. "Now wash this side," she said, indicating her chest. The anticipation of his touch almost made her quiver.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Babcock," he swallowed as he settled on the towel beside the tub again. "There are limits to a man's ability to remain a gentleman."

"When were you ever a gentleman?" She taunted, and slipped the cloth into his hand.

He took it and added more shower gel. "Every single day of my life until I met you," he said. Gingerly, he ran the cloth over her neck, then her upper chest. He avoided the angry bruise on her collarbone, and wondered if she genuinely meant to allow him to spread the lather over her breasts. He was a little afraid of how much he hoped she did.

"Gentlemen bore me," she said, and moved the hand of his that had been on her shoulder so that it rested lightly on her breast. What the hell, she figured. She craved his hands on her, and she wasn't going to deprive herself of something so readily available.

His mouth dropped open in genuine shock. They'd been teasing and almost—but this was the first irrefutable sign that maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He squeezed experimentally, and she leaned her head against his chest, sighing out a "Just like that," as he exerted more pressure. He offered no complaint as the conditioner from her hair coated his skin. Covered with the cloth, he moved his other hand in slow circles over her left breast.

Her chest heaved as she sucked in a breath, and he transferred the cloth to his right hand, giving that breast the same attention. Touching her sudsy breast with his left hand, he let his fingers slide over her slick skin, palming the weight of her breast.

Niles asked himself, somewhat detachedly, what was keeping him from hyperventilating. Ever since he and Miss Babcock had eaten those cookies, he had gone back and forth between being certain that the attraction they'd shared had been chemically induced and wondering if maybe, just maybe, there were something more to it than that. And now he balanced on increasingly numb knees and rubbed her nipple between his fingers, at her own request.

She arched her back and moaned, her breath quickening. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he nuzzled her cheek with his chin. His stubble both tickled and aroused.

"I—" he began to say.

"Don't, just…" She interrupted him, not wanting doubts or even worse, declarations to draw them out of this haze that enveloped them.

He caressed her cheek with his lips, and she felt his tongue against her jaw, briefly. She wound her right arm around his neck, running her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. He transferred the cloth and moved his right hand on her breast, working her nipple, and with the cloth in his left, burned a soapy trail down her belly, stopping between her legs. When she felt him there, she closed her eyes and tilted her hips and didn't even try to contain her whimper of desire.

He finally dropped the pretense of the washcloth, and when she felt his bare hand on her under the bath water, she moaned. He explored her folds, rubbing her deliberately until the tingle spread up her spine and she wanted to cry out.

How had this gone from Niles helping wash her hair to his fingers on her clit? And, oh, for the love of everything holy, inside her, she thought, as she spread her knees wider. She was not a woman who very often lost her ability to think clearly, even on the brink of orgasm. Her thoughts became fleeting in favor of the sensations he stirred in her. He touched her skillfully, as if he'd been tracing the contours of her body for years. The meds, she remembered gratefully. It must be the pain pills. No way could he have this effect on her otherwise. It was her last conscious thought as he twisted her nipple, pressed his thumb against her clit, and thrust two fingers up and forward. She inhaled roughly, deep breaths, and still felt that she couldn't get enough oxygen. She let her good arm fall at her side.

"Christ almighty," Niles exhaled, his own respiration nearly as disrupted as hers. He wrapped her in his arms, easing her back against the tub. He stretched for a hand towel from the rack and dabbed the conditioner off his chest and shoulder as they both caught their breath. The woman had one hell of an effect on him, and he hadn't even-

"You learn that at Oxford, too?" She took his hand and rested her cheek against it.

Her gesture surprised him by the intimacy of it, and he curled his fingers tenderly around her chin. "A gentleman never tells," he quipped.

"I thought we already established how I feel about gentlemen," she countered, and dropped a tiny kiss against his palm before shoving his hand away. If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he might not have even noticed. That, even more than what she had just let him do, made hope rise in his chest.

"The water's getting cold," she whined.

"Let's get you out of here and back to bed, kiddo," he said warmly, and turned on the water. Efficiently, he rinsed the conditioner from her hair and the soap bubbles from her body. He put the showerhead down and released the plug so that the remaining water could drain, then stood and grasped Babcock's hips once again to help her stand. Overbalanced by the heavy cast, she lost her footing and fell into his arms, and he caught her easily.

Making eye contact for the first time since Niles had begun to help her bathe, CC grinned at him, an expression as roguish as it was playful. "This isn't nearly as awkward as I thought it would be," she observed, bringing her thumb to rest lightly on his bottom lip.

He nipped at the digit. "So you've spent a lot of time thinking about it, I take it."

"Not as much as you have, I'm sure," she retorted regally, looking down her nose at him.

He closed the distance between them, crossing the barrier created by the edge of the tub. She pressed her lips to his, and the kiss was unhurried. He held her steady with a hand on her waist, and let the other drift down to cup her bottom possessively.

CC felt his tongue against her lips, and swayed a bit. As the kiss deepened, it became clear to her that she was disgracefully close to being unable to remain on her feet. She pulled back from him and said waspishly, "I'm freezing."

"That has not been my experience," he laughed. Spraying the last few bubbles clinging to her legs, he shut off the water and picked up her thick towel. "Hold onto me," he said, and rubbed the towel over her body.

"Bossy," she grumbled, and squeezed his shoulder as he helped her step out of the bathtub.

Niles wrapped an extra towel around her dripping hair, squeezing the excess water out. He picked up the comb on the counter and ran it through her tangles, then unwrapped the plastic protecting her cast. It was the work of a minute, but she was already unsteady on her feet.

"What do you want to wear?" He asked, his arm around her lower back for support as they walked back out into the bedroom.

"Don't care, just want to lie down." The drowsiness of opiates combined with a hot bath, a massage, and an unexpected orgasm was more than even CC Babcock could resist, and she was fading fast.

Niles heaved a sigh. "I'll find you something."

"Don't wanna wear what I had on earlier, and I'll kill you if you cut up any more of my clothes," she threatened.

He waggled his eyebrows. "Topless it is, then." He rummaged through the first drawer of the bureau to find a pair of panties and silk sleep pants. He helped her into them and patted her knee.

She wiggled her toes and said, "Get me a tank top, at least. I can just leave the strap down."

"Oh, all right," he grimaced, and found one in the second drawer. "You're going to have to step into it."

"Obviously," she responded with disdain, grabbing his arm as she stood up. She shimmied the top over her hips and Niles held the right strap for her so she could slip it over her uninjured arm.

He resisted pressing his lips to the skin exposed by the other dangling strap, but it was a near thing. "Let me get your neck brace," he said.

"Hate that damn thing," she murmured as she sank back down on the edge of the bed.

Niles scooped up the brace and climbed behind her on the mattress so he could secure it.

"Now may I finally lie down, Nurse Ratched?"

"Yes, you may, worst patient ever," he said, and piled up the pillows she needed to support the weight of her cast. He pulled the sheet and blanket over her, ensuring her warmth in spite of her scanty sleepwear. He made his way towards the bathroom so he could gather his clothing and leave her to rest.

Her eyes already shut, she said softly, "You don't have to go."

His heart began to pound. "Tell you what," he began. "Let me, ah, take a quick shower and I'll be back in a flash."

"Can use mine. But prob'ly not much hot water left," she said, trailing off into a near-doze.

"Not a problem," he said wryly, and with one last lingering glance at her, he stepped into the bathroom.

As he closed the door, he could have sworn he heard her low, drowsy laugh.

**THE END**


End file.
